


Smoke

by sister_wolf



Category: Hard Core Logo (1996), due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-17
Updated: 2004-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:36:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_wolf/pseuds/sister_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The picnic table creaked as someone sat down next to him.  Ray looked over, ready to tell Marty or Stosh about the beer situation, but it wasn't anyone he knew.  A big, black-haired guy in an oversized black wool coat, squinting as he lit a cigarette with the ease of long practice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as an anti-bedtime story for [](http://heuradys.livejournal.com/profile)[**heuradys**](http://heuradys.livejournal.com/). Thanks to [](http://brooklinegirl.livejournal.com/profile)[**brooklinegirl**](http://brooklinegirl.livejournal.com/) for beta!
> 
> Warnings for pot use, underage drinking, underage sex, and drunk/high sex.

Sitting on the rickety picnic table behind the five and dime, Ray fidgeted, tucking his hands into his pockets. The late September air was starting to get a little too cold for his thin, old jacket, but based on the fight his mom and dad had the last time his mom brought up the idea of buying him a new jacket, Ray figured he'd be wearing it layered with a sweatshirt again this winter. He fingered the few crumpled dollar bills stuffed in his pocket and sighed-- no way was this enough to buy a six-pack from one of the seniors. Maybe he could steal one from his stupid brother. He'd promised that he'd be able to supply beer for the party they were planning this weekend when his parents went out of town-- well, not a party, really, just him and Marty Finkelstein and Stosh Krokowicz hanging out and talking about girls, probably, but it _sounded_ better to call it a party.

The picnic table creaked as someone sat down next to him. Ray looked over, ready to tell Marty or Stosh about the beer situation, but it wasn't anyone he knew. A big, black-haired guy in an oversized black wool coat, squinting as he lit a cigarette with the ease of long practice. Ray thought he might be in his twenties, at first, but as Ray took a better look he decided that he was probably only a little older, maybe a senior, but not from his high school. Maybe he was from the Catholic school across town.

"What're you looking at, eh?" the guy asked, sneering at him.

"Nothing," Ray said, hunching his shoulders. It wasn't like he was a coward or anything, but the guy was a _lot_ bigger than him, and the last time he'd come home with a black eye, his mom had made a big fuss over him and cried. His dad, on the other hand, had clapped him on the shoulder and told him, "Hope the other guy looks worse."

Either way, Ray wasn't looking forward to going through that again. He stared at the scraggly brown grass beneath his feet, digging his shoe into the dirt absently. Maybe if he just stayed quiet, the guy would go away.

"You wanna smoke?" the guy asked. Ray looked up at him, surprised, and saw that he was holding out a cigarette and lighter for Ray to take. He was wearing fingerless black gloves and a few big silver rings. Weird, but cool.

"Yeah-- uh, yeah, sure," Ray said, trying to sound smooth. He and Stosh had tried out smoking behind the gym, and while it tasted pretty awful, he was sure that girls-- okay, so one girl in particular, Stella DuBois-- would be impressed by how tough he looked. He'd gotten to the point where he could inhale without choking or coughing, most of the time anyway. The lighter was another matter-- all Stosh could ever get was matches, so he'd never really figured out how to use a lighter before. Ray fumbled with it, trying to figure out how to hold it still, press the button, and light the cigarette all at the same time.

The guy watched him fumble the lighter for a few seconds, then took it back, smirking. "Here, hold still. Dink."

Ray tried not to flinch back from the flame, and actually managed to get the cigarette going on his first try. He felt a little stupid and chick-like, having a guy light his cigarette for him. Guys always did that for girls, in the black and white movies his mom watched on Saturday afternoons.

"Uh, thanks," Ray said, only coughing a little, as he checked the guy out surreptitiously. He was wearing a ragged black tee-shirt and jeans, under the black coat, and there was mud caked to his clunky black boots. Maybe he was a punk, Ray thought. He'd heard they were dangerous. Cool.

"I'm Ray," he said hesitantly, when it appeared that the guy wasn't going to say anything.

"Joe. Joe Dick." He sneered at Ray, looking like he was waiting for Ray to make something of it.

"Cool," Ray said without thinking. He gulped and added, as Joe's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "No, I mean it. That's a cool name. So, uh, where are you from?"

"Around. So what is there to do in this shitty little town, anyway?" Joe looked amused by something.

"Hey, it's not a-- well, yeah, okay. Skokie _is_ a shitty little town," Ray said, making a face. He and Stosh had big plans to move to the city when they graduated. Man, three years felt like _forever_.

"It sure as hell is. Is there even a pool hall around here?" Joe asked, flicking his cigarette away and immediately lighting a new one.

"Well, yeah. It's down that way about four blocks." Ray's eyes widened. "What, you're gonna go there? Man, they'll beat you up. _Bikers_ go there."

Joe laughed. "Yeah, they can try." He started down the street, stopping and looking behind him after a few strides. "Well? Aren't you gonna come with? You're not _scared_ , are you?"

"No!" Ray said, scowling. He dropped his cigarette onto the pavement and ground it out with his sneaker, trying to look tough. He wasn't a chicken, no way.

"Well, come on then." Grinning, Joe added, "Don't worry, I'll protect you from the big bad bikers."

"Asshole." Ray glared at him.

"Dink."

"Let's go," Ray said, taking the lead. Joe matched his stride, his shoulder occasionally bumping him. Ray grinned. This was definitely more exciting than sneaking a six-pack away from his brother.

***

The room was tilting a little, Ray thought. Maybe the floor wasn't even, or something. He slumped on a bar stool, watching Joe play pool against some big, hairy guy who could probably twist them both into pretzels. The guy was thinking about it, too, if the nasty looks and the way his hands were flexing on his pool cue were any indication.

"Maybe, um. Maybe we should go," Ray tried to say, but the words came out kinda slurred, and not loud enough to make it over the country and western music on the overhead speakers.

"Eight ball, corner pocket," Joe said, pointing with his cue. He smirked at the big hairy guy, who snarled back at him.

"Uh, Joe?" Ray tried to say, but he'd started to hiccup a little. He held his hands over his mouth, hoping he wasn't going to start throwing up.

With a crack, the cue hit the ball precisely into the pocket. Joe grinned, reaching for the two wrinkled twenties lying on the edge of the pool table.

The big hairy guy slammed his hand down over the twenties. "You little shit. You been playing me."

Joe's smile went nasty. "No shit, sherlock. _We_ been playing _pool_ ," he said slowly, as if he didn't think big and hairy was too bright.

"He's a fucking pool shark," big and hairy said to the two guys who had suddenly materialized at his side (Ray named them "short and ugly" and "tall and scary").

Short and ugly pounded a fist into his palm. "You want to teach him a lesson?"

"Uh, Joe..." Ray tried again.

"C'mon, fuckheads. Try me," Joe said, beckoning to them.

"Joe!"

"What?" Joe demanded, not looking away from short and ugly.

"Cop," Ray hissed, sliding off the bar stool clumsily and pointing toward the front door, where a couple of uniformed cops had just entered the bar.

"Fuck." Joe grabbed the cue ball and slung it at a guy standing at the next pool table, who turned around, swearing, and swung a massive fist at big and hairy.

As a general fight began to break out, Joe grabbed Ray's hand and tugged him toward the bathrooms.

"Shouldn't we-- shouldn't we be going for the _exit_?" Ray yelped, tugging back.

"Come _on_ ," Joe hissed.

Ray gritted his teeth-- he was _not_ a wimp, he was _not_ a wimp-- and followed him into the dark hallway at the back of the pool hall. Joe grabbed the handle of the door at the end of the hallway and tugged at it, swearing.

"What?" Ray asked, wondering what _else_ could go wrong.

"Fucking thing's locked!" Joe yelled. Swearing, he kicked a trashcan.

Feeling like his life was about to go down the drains-- he'd be _arrested_ , his mom would cry, his dad would disown him-- Ray slumped against the door. He stumbled back with a surprised yell as the door opened and spilled him out into an alley.

Sprawled on damp, nasty-smelling cement, Ray looked up as Joe came to the doorway. " _Push_ , dink," he said, laughing at the expression on Joe's face.

"You're a regular fucking comedian," Joe said, trying to snarl, but Ray could see a reluctant smile trying to form. "C'mon, let's get the fuck out of here."

***

The deep shadows under the trees made the park seem much more mysterious and exciting than it ever was in the daytime. Ray led the way to a little hollow, hidden by bushes on one side and a retaining wall on the other, and collapsed onto the cool, damp ground.

"Fuck," Joe said, wheezing. In the faint glow of the moon, Ray could just barely see him digging a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket. Lighting one, he offered it to Ray. Ray took it, deciding not to argue-- he _knew_ he wasn't in any shape to work a lighter right now.

"Man," he said, taking a cautious drag off the cigarette. "You do that all the time?"

"Nah. Usually they're too stupid to figure out I'm sharking 'em," Joe said, grinning.

Ray shook his head. "You're something else."

Joe shrugged. "Most people are too fucking stupid to figure out that you don't _have_ to follow the rules. Fucking sheep." He spat into the bushes.

"Yeah," Ray said. He shivered suddenly. Now that he wasn't running anymore, he was starting to feel really cold.

"You cold?" Joe asked. Ray nodded, wrapping his arms around himself. His thin jacket wasn't keeping him warm at all, not with the way he'd been sweating in the overly warm bar.

"C'mere." Joe pulled his long coat open, crooking a finger at him. Ray shook his head violently, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. "What?" Joe demanded.

"I'm not a... fucking... chick," Ray muttered.

Joe sighed loudly, rolling his eyes. "I know you're not. Dink. Now get over here."

"No, I'm just gonna... go home," Ray said. Hopefully his mom wouldn't be waiting up for him. He winced.

Joe shrugged. "Suit yourself. I guess I'll just have to smoke this all by myself," he said, pulling something out of an inner pocket of his coat.

Ray squinted. "What is that?"

Joe didn't answer. Sitting up, he lit it-- whatever it was-- carefully, taking a long drag and holding his breath.

"Holy shit!" Ray's voice squeaked a little. Clearing his throat, he tried to sound a little more casual. "Is that, uh, is that _weed_?"

"Yep," Joe answered in a choked voice, smoke puffing out of his mouth. He exhaled slowly, smiling.

 _Wow_. Ray had heard that some of the seniors knew how to get weed, but he'd never seen it before. It smelled weird, kind of sharp and herby.

Joe held the joint out. "You want some?" His voice sounded deeper than before.

Ray wavered for a second-- his mom would _kill_ him if she ever found out-- but then the same reckless impulse that had made him walk into the pool hall stiffened his spine. "Yeah, sure," he said nonchalantly.

Joe pulled his hand back when Ray reached for the joint. "You ever smoked up before?"

Ray thought about lying, but just shook his head.

"C'mere. Come _here_ ," he said, a little more firmly, when Ray hesitated.

Ray scooted across the dirt, pausing a few feet from Joe, who made an impatient sound and yanked him closer. "First rule-- inhale slowly. No choking. Second rule, you hold it in your lungs as long as you can. Got it?"

"Uh, yeah," Ray said uncertainly.

Joe handed him the joint. Ray squinted at it, shrugged, and took a deep breath, sucking the smoke into his lungs, and immediately doubled over, coughing.

"Fuck," Joe said, sounding disgusted.

"No! I can-- I can do this!" Ray protested.

Joe scowled at him. "Okay, one more chance. You-- sit right _here_ , and let me show you how to do it."

Cautiously, Ray scooted closer to Joe's side. Joe reached out an arm and tugged him right up against Joe's side, wrapping the side of the coat around him. Ray shivered again and leaned into Joe's warmth.

"Watch," Joe said. Ray could kind of feel his voice, rumbling through his chest. He turned his head to the side and watched as Joe took a deep drag off the joint. Ray blinked. He must still be drunk, because he felt like he was tilting toward Joe.

Joe lifted the joint to Ray's lips. Feeling incredibly silly, Ray followed Joe's instructions and managed to take a hit without choking. They passed the joint quietly-- or, well, Joe held it to his mouth and then to Ray's-- for a few minutes. Ray was starting to feel seriously warm, and kind of fuzzy. Comfortable. Horny.

... wait, horny?

Ray blinked slowly, feeling like it took a lot more effort than it should. The world was tilting... oh, yeah, because they were lying down. "Okay," Ray said, to nothing in particular.

Joe chuckled, the sound echoing oddly in Ray's ears. He figured out, after a few moments of deep thought, that it was because they were lying down with Ray's head resting on Joe's chest. That was odd.

Joe did something to make the joint disappear-- Ray thought he might have eaten the last little bit, but that was just too weird to be true. He listened to Joe's heart beating. Cool. Joe was just so cool. Ray lifted his head, about to tell Joe that, and blinked, puzzled, as Joe kissed him. They were... kissing? Cool. Joe was just so damn cool.

Joe was also a much better kisser than Stella DuBois, who Ray had recently talked into letting him go to second base. For one thing, Joe used tongue, and lots of it, which Stella hadn't been too eager about.

For another thing, Joe's hands were definitely not staying put-- instead, they were wandering around his back, sliding up under his jacket and tee-shirt, sliding a little bit-- whoah-- down past his waist. Did that make this third base? Ray wondered, giggling into Joe's mouth.

Joe growled, wrapping his hands around Ray's back and rolling them over. Ray blinked up at Joe, feeling seriously disoriented. Joe grinned at him-- that shark-like grin he'd had when he played pool-- and started kissing him again, rubbing his body against Ray.

 _Wow_. That felt _really_ good. Ray wrapped his arms around Joe and kissed back enthusiastically, grinding up against him. God. This was _much_ better than fumbling with Stella's bra.

Joe stopped kissing him-- Ray whimpered quietly and tried to get his mouth back-- but Joe nudged his head to one side and started kissing his neck, licking a line up to his ear and chewing lightly on his earlobe. "Fuck," Ray hissed, grabbing handfuls of Joe's coat. Joe muttered something that sounded like, "Not yet," but Ray wasn't quite sure, since he was a little distracted by the feeling that, holy shit, he could _come_ from this.

Joe gave his neck a final stinging kiss and slid farther down his body, toward-- Holy. Shit. Ray froze, not even breathing, as Joe slipped the button on his jeans free and then drew the zipper down. Was he actually going to...?

"Oh _fuck_ ," Ray groaned, grabbing wildly for something-- anything-- as Joe pulled his underwear down and sucked his dick into his mouth. He wasn't going to-- oh god, he wasn't going to last long-- not when Joe's mouth was so wet, and so hot, and oh god he was sucking--

Ray dug his heels into the dirt, arched his back, and came, hard, harder than he ever had before in his _life_ , his brain fuzzing out on the sheer amazing pleasure of it.

When he came back to himself, he discovered that Joe was on top of him again, his jeans pushed down and his dick rubbing against Ray's stomach. Which was a little-- okay, a little weird-- and maybe a little scary, but Ray was way too mellow to get too freaked out about it. Joe pushed his face into Ray's neck, mouthing and licking at the skin, and his harsh breathing and the way he was starting to moan on every breath, and something about the way he was holding Ray, covering him almost completely, felt really, really good. Ray rubbed his hands up and down Joe's back, moaning a little under his breath, because even though he'd just come his brains out, god, this felt _good_.

Joe's hands tightened on Ray's shoulders-- his mouth biting down and holding on Ray's neck, stinging-- and he moaned, loudly, desperately, jerking against Ray's belly, a sudden surprising feeling of hot wet warmth-- and collapsed onto him, breathing hard.

Ray wasn't sure how long he drifted in and out of sleep. At some point they managed to move, pulling their jeans up, Joe rolling onto his side and pulling Ray against him, tucking his coat around both of them. Ray woke up when the coat slipped from around his shoulders, shivering at the sudden cold air against his damp skin.

Joe was completely out, snoring a little. Ray sat up, shaking his head to try to clear it. Did the two of them just-- and then they-- and holy _shit_ , they'd--

Holy shit. He'd had sex.

Ray was starting to seriously freak out-- he'd just had sex! with a guy!-- when the light snoring stopped. Joe grumbled, pulling the coat tighter around himself. Ray waited, hardly daring to breathe. He didn't know if he wanted Joe to wake up or not. Maybe he should just go.

Joe opened his eyes and glared up at him sleepily. "Lettin' the damn heat out," he mumbled.

"Sorry," Ray whispered.

Joe yawned, rolling onto his back and stretching, and scratched his balls. "Too cold to sleep in the park anyway." He sat up, coughing, and spat into the bushes.

Ray hugged himself nervously. "I, uh... I should go. My mom's gonna kill me."

Joe squinted at him. He seemed to be looking at Ray's neck for some reason. "Yeah, I'd say that's a good bet."

Standing up, they brushed leaves and dirt off themselves. Ray jittered nervously. "Well. Um. Goodbye."

"See ya," Joe said casually.

Ray looked at Joe quickly, then turned to walk away, feeling kind of let down. He jumped and let out an embarrassing squeak as Joe smacked him in the ass. "Hey!"

"See you tomorrow night?" Joe asked, smirking.

"Asshole." Ray glared at him. Joe grinned back at him unrepentantly. "Yeah, _maybe_."

Walking away, Ray felt, other than the exhaustion, the hangover, and the sore muscles, like he was walking on air. He _knew_ he had to have a goofy grin plastered on his face, but he didn't really care. He'd just had _sex_. With Joe. Joe was so cool.

The next morning, when his mom gave him the third degree about the huge hickey on his neck, Ray wasn't feeling quite so generous anymore. God, Joe was an _asshole_.

He'd see him tonight.


End file.
